Finally the tight fingers opened out, and Satan gathered the last crumbs from the smooth palm.
Two or three times during this performance Black Bart had half risen from his haunches and a growl swelled almost inaudibly in his throat, but now he stalked around the table and pushed his narrow head between Dan's shoulder and the stallion.

A snarl of incredible ferocity made Satan turn, but without the slightest dread, apparently.

For an instant the two stood nose to nose, Black Bart a picture of snarling danger and Satan with curiously pricking ears and bright eyes.

The growling rose towards a crescendo, a terrible sound; then a lean hand shot out with that speed which Joan could never comprehend--and which always made her think, rather breathlessly, of the strike of a snake.

The fingers settled around the muzzle of Bart.
"Of all the no-good houn'-dogs," declared Dan, "you're the worst, and the most jealousest.